


Collected Drabbles

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Baking, Belly Rubs, Body Hair, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Furry, Guitars, Hand Jobs, Licking, M/M, Making Out, Meeting the Parents, Multi, Music, Napping, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Singing, Skull Fucking, Smissmas Cookies, Teasing, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles I've written either on whims or from prompts.  Most are fluff, some are a bit pervy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cookies

"Dammit, Spy! What did I say about that dough?" Engineer hollered, brandishing his rolling pin. His hands and clothes were covered in flour, as were those of Sniper, standing beside him, cutting out small candy cane shapes from the cookie dough rolled onto the baking sheet in front of him.  
  
"We're never gonna get these Smissmass cookies done if you keep eatin' it, you cheeky cunt," the Australian chastised, pressing in another candy cane shape.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Spy lied, stowing the glob of cookie dough he held in his hand, holding both hands up and open for his lovers to see. "I have nothing in my hands. I've taken nothing."

They both frowned at him, well aware of his tricks. "Well then quit sittin' around and grab a sheet. We got at least ten more sheets to make before the end of the day, if everyone's gettin' their share of cookies. Plus a tin for Miss Pauling, and another for the boss, or she'll get all ornery," Engineer commanded, holding out a greased baking sheet to the Frenchman, who looked at it with distaste.  
  
"I'll get flour on my suit."

Sniper leaned over and pressed a flour-covered hand to Spy's shoulder, leaving a big, doughy white mark on the finely tailored fabric. "Now you have. Get to work."

Spy's death glare was somewhat diminished by his excessive pouting as he removed his jacket and began to roll up his sleeves.


	2. Statistics

"For each older brother a male has, he is 33% more likely to be homosexual," Medic said matter-of-factly, spearing a piece of pancake on his fork. Beside him, Heavy gave his lover a skeptical look, a smirk crossing his lips in spite of the mug of coffee lifted to them.

Scout set down his glass of milk and scowled at the doctor across from him at the breakfast table, giving him the most withering glare he could muster. "You tryin' ta imply somethin', Doc?"

"I just thought you would enjoy learning something new this morning." Medic popped his fork into his mouth, withdrawing it slowly, thoughtfully, chewing his pancake and swallowing. "But, you know, now that you mention it, don't you have quite a number of older brothers, Scout?"

The younger mercenary's mouth became a straight line, his response nothing but a heavy breath through his nose.

"Ja, ja, I remember! I do believe you have, what, six older brothers?"

"Seven," Scout corrected, an eyebrow quirking in annoyance.

"Oh, mein apologies. You know, you quite seem to have beaten the odds, then, haven't you? Scientifically, a man with your family history, by your age, would have already had to wrestle with his desires. Perhaps already wrestled with a partner, finding solace and satisfaction in the strong, muscular, hairy arms of another man, in the hard, inviting loins of the masculine, their bodies an anatomical mirror."

Heavy's quiet laughter was barely contained. The poor runner was almost squirming with discomfort, and the doctor was being just lurid enough to make everyone uncomfortable. It was cruel, but entertaining.

"Yeah, well," Scout tried to ignore how flustered he was growing, "I'm just that good, I guess. Beatin' the odds."

"Yer good at beatin' somethin'!" Demoman announced, walking in with his tray of pancakes, settling down next to Scout at the table. "At least, ye sure did a good job last night!" He laughed, throwing an arm over the alarmed mercenary's shoulders and squeezing him close. "You should feel this lad's hands fly, Doc! He's somethin' else! Not afraid to knock on the back door for a bit just to get the job finished, either." Waggling his eyebrows, he leaned in to Scout, and mumbled, "I can return the favour with somethin' other'n fingers later, if ye please."

Scout was bright red, completely, utterly caught. His eyes were wide, unblinking, his mouth had dropped open. He was unresponsive, vapor-locked. Demoman gave him another hug and set to his breakfast, looking up at his laughing teammates across from him. "So what were you lot talkin' about before I interrupted?"


	3. Mundy Morning

“Every other day of the week is fine,” Spy quietly sang beneath his breath, reclining in the metal-and-canvas chair he perched lazily in. Before him, a campfire blazed at a mild roar, popping and crackling in defiance of the tune which he carried. The tune Engineer was supplying on his trusty guitar.

Engineer smiled over at Spy, noticing he'd caught the tune, and was singing along. He knew the tune well, the radio in his workshop bombarding him with pop hits all of the time, but hearing his partner sing along, he couldn't help but wonder how often the rogue had lounged behind him, invisible, listening to his radio and his cursing at his work. Looking over between them, he saw Sniper had yet to notice, pausing from cleaning his rifle to take a pull from his beer.

These quiet, calm nights were the kind they lived for. When they could just be together. No need for conversation, but no prohibitions against any. Companionship, comfort in each other's presence, meant so much to the three mercenaries, so used to spending their lives guarded, lucky to pick up a handful of friends, let alone fall in love.

But they had. They all had. Together.

Spy's voice faded in again, above the flames, brighter, louder. He looked over to Sniper pointedly, and motioned for Engineer to join him. “Monday, monday.”

“So good to me,” they both sang, voices not quite in harmony, Engineer's husky baritone crossed against Spy's nasal tenor. “Monday, monday, it was all I hoped it would be.”

Sniper looked up in surprise at the voices coming from both directions. His lovers' voices always amazed him, being not much of a singer himself. But what caught him off guard were the lyrics.

“Oh monday mornin, monday mornin' couldn't guarantee that monday evenin' you would still be here with me.”

But it wasn't monday.

“Mundy, Mundy.”

They were singing to him.

“So good to me.”

They were singing about him.

“Mundy, Mundy, this was all I hoped it would be.”

The words were different, the meaning changed, they were altering a song for him.

“But Mundy morning, Mundy morning, it's a guarantee that in the evenin' you would still be here with me.”

Sniper blushed, embarrassed and flattered at the cute gesture, tilting his hat forward and leaning back on the log upon which he sat, shrinking, focusing on his beer. He coughed, a smile crossing his lips.

Laughing, Engineer set down his guitar, and with Spy, sat at Sniper's side and wrapped their arms around him, planting kisses on his cheeks as he recoiled further into the ball he was slowly squeezing himself into, chuckling all the while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song referenced is "Monday, Monday" by The Mamas and The Papas


	4. We Know

"Doktor, not now, not here," Heavy whispered, trying his best to shrug off the German pressing his body close to the giant's. "Not in front of team." The fight was about to start, hordes of robots could be heard on the wind, approaching at a distance. Preparations were complete, and now all there was to do was wait. Medic had snuck over for a quick hug and a whispered promise of pleasure post-combat, only for Heavy to freeze up in embarrassment.

Medic frowned, making to speak, when he was interrupted.

"You two act like nobody knows or somethin'," Scout teased, smirking. Behind him, Engineer, Sniper, and Soldier all nodded, smiles on their faces. "Seriously, how long've we been workin' together? We know."

The two older men stared at their youngest teammate for a moment, mumbling awkwardly and digging at the dirt with their feet. Finally, Medic turned to his lover and wrapped his arms around him unashamedly, settling comfortably against the larger man as his strong arms enveloped him. Leaning up, he pressed his lips gently, chastely, against the giant's.

A whistle sounded from Engineer, and Scout picked up his bat, hefting it over his shoulder. "Jeez, get a frickin' room!" Thinking fast, he ducked several syringes flying in his direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to Catcard, Rellyrie, Ysmni, and tf2-daesdemona, who caused this cute bullshit in a game of MvM


	5. Socket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, while not expressly pornographic, does mention the rather squicky concept of skullfucking, but does not detail it at all. Heads up.

He was staring again.

Those bright blue eyes, set beneath a heavy brow, bored into his skull with intensity, his lower lip jutting forward and puffy from when it had been worried at with teeth in the sloppy throes of carnal congress. Intently, Jane was studying him, his face, the shapes that made it up, and its stark asymmetry. He was staring at the bloody eye patch again.

“Can I help ye?” Tavish asked, peering down at the man perched atop him, arms folded together on his belly, chin resting on his arms.

“I need to know,” was Jane's reply, biting at the inside of his lip. “Have you ever... you know, used that socket?”

“What? Well, I've stashed contraband in there on planes and the such, but who hasn't, aye?”

“No, no, I mean for sex.”

“For sex?!”

“Yeah. You ever let someone skullfuck you?” Jane rejoined with more confidence.

Tavish ran his hand over his face in exasperation. Of course Jane would ask him that. Why wouldn't he? “The hell kind of question is that?”

“So it's a no?”

The sigh that ran through Tavish's nostrils was unbearably loud in the quiet bedroom. “Once.”

“Seriously?”

“I was very, very drunk. And he was very, very handsome.”

“What was it like?” Jane practically bounced atop the taller man, grinning like a curious child.

Tavish shook his head, memories returning to him, making him dizzy. He leveled his one-eyed gaze on the American. “It was not pleasant.”


	6. Urgent

It had been sudden. A flight of intense emotion and barely-restrained lust. That tall, lanky Aussie clad in far too much uniform and a growing coat of sweat in the hot New Mexico sun stood there so invitingly, hips cocked forward, mouth slightly open in a sharp-toothed grin. His words, one side of their simple, playful, flirtatious conversation growled through low, hushed tones, dragging across the gravel of his throat, full of promise and allure.

It had spread urgently through Engineer like flames to gasoline, flaring through him and setting him alight. It burned through his veins, into his muscles and trailed to his groin. Everything about Sniper radiated sex, as so often it did, as so well he knew, playing the Texan like a six-string with a few gestures and words.

It was startling when he'd hit the wall. It was still rather abrupt when he found his legs swept out from under him, the stocky mechanic's body pressing him to the cool concrete, arms dragging those long limbs up around his hips. It was no surprise, however, when lips closed on his own, when tongue snaked out to touch and taste his, when his breath and his sense and his thoughts were stolen by Engineer's perfect mouth. Stubble scratched against stubble, and Sniper's legs tightened around the smaller man's middle, pulling him close, letting those hands find their way to his bottom to support and grope. Quiet, urgent grunts filled the space of the battlement, exploding into open gasps as the American's lips and teeth found their way to the bushman's neck, pressing kisses and bites in equal measure until he latched on to bruise him just below his ear. Sniper loved to be marked, and his lover knew it, putting the mark there for all to see on that soft, supple flesh, identifying that the lanky gunman belonged to him. Engineer was rewarded with panting moans and clawing hands at his back, with slim hips grinding against him, with the knowledge that he was undoing the carefully-crafted laid-back demeanor of the consummate professional in the face of their mutual mixture of love and lust.

The sound of approaching gunfire on the wind ended their short, if passionate tryst. There would be time later, time afforded them for such frivolities, when death was not on the wind, but for now, there was work to be done. There were men to be killed. There was blood to be spilled. They could not tarry just yet. But when the battle was over and the desert grew quiet, they would retire to the confines of a beaten, rusted camper van, away from the world, away from time, and nothing would be urgent. Nothing would be sudden. All would be deliberate, and they would enjoy their time.


	7. Cruelty

“Heavy! Ahaha! Heavy sto-GOTT NO WHY ACH!” Medic howled, trying to free his arms from their place, pinned above his head by Heavy's hands on his wrists, pressing them to the mattress as the giant bore down atop him.

The doctor giggled in a mixture of nervous terror and incapacitating reflex, heart racing, body electric with the urge to fight or fly, or both, possibly simultaneously. He wrapped his legs around Heavy's waist, trying to wrench him away with them only to find his gyrations entirely fruitless.  
|  
“HEAVY, STOP!” he pleaded, trying to nudge the big man's head away from his, to compress his neck and hide in his own body like a turtle. He tittered and whined, nearly shrieking as he struggled with all of his quickly-fading strength.

“Cannot do that, Doktor,” was Heavy's reply, chuckling as he nosed into the smaller man's neck and laid another long, flat-tongued lap along the smooth, warm skin at the crux where it met his shoulder.

Medic writhed, crushing Heavy's face between his jaw and shoulder, only making himself writhe and gibber further for his efforts. “Gott! Stop! It tickles too much! Bitte! I am dying!”

The giant atop him chuckled darkly and released his lover, sitting back on his heels as Medic curled into a ball on the mattress, wiping saliva from his neck and shuddering, his face red, his whole body trembling in an adrenaline-fueled mess.

“You are so cruel,” the doctor spat, wounded. “Why must you do such things to me?”

“Because you are so cute when I do them,” was Heavy's simple reply, a shrug and a grin punctuating it.

Glaring over his shoulder, Medic huffed, pouting. “If you are going to do something so awful because I am so cute, you had better make it up to me.”

Heavy's laugh rumbled softly through him. His grin faded to a smirk as he regarded his lover coolly. “Maybe,” he sniffed. “Maybe.


	8. Let Sleeping Cats Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a birthday present for Magpieraven, who does lovely TF2 furry art. As such, it is Furry AU.

Soldier frowned as hard as he could. It had been two hours since he woke from his nap to find Engineer curled up against him, half of his body thrown over the buck's own, holding him in place as he purred away in slumber. Two hours since his first attempt at movement had earned him a warning growl and his second attempt a sharp bite on the hand, dissuading him from further attempts. Two hours since the drowsy feline, having stalked in after an overnight bout of machining and welding, had deigned Soldier the perfect location for the day-long coma that was waiting for its chance to pounce and take hold of the weary mechanic in its claws.

So here Soldier lay, staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, perfectly awake from the short power nap he'd deigned to allow himself, stuck in place under threat of more sharp-toothed bites and the possibility of claws. The claws weren't very much a possibility as an increasing fact, really, as the Texan tabby gently flexed and relaxed those sharp nails as he slept, kneading at Soldier's chest and pricking the skin beneath his fur. He screwed up his face, trying not to flinch in the face of the tiny pinpricks of pain that only served to enhance his discomfort.

He sighed, wondering why he put up with such things. Looking down at the smaller man, he felt a small smile creep across his muzzle; Engineer's loud, purring breaths breaking the otherwise complete silence of the room. He did look really adorable when he slept, didn't he?

# 


	9. A Little Old

"So, uh, Ma, this is Tavish. He's, uh," Scout scratched at the back of his head, unsure exactly how to say it. How does one tell their mother that the one-eyed Scotsman beside them is their boyfriend? Oh, also that they're into guys.  
  
"I'm his boyfriend," Demoman finished for his lover, grabbing hold of the younger man's hand, smiling a little at the American's mumbled, "Aw jeez."  
  
Scout's mother stood there for a moment, her brows furrowed, her mouth in a straight line, quirked up at one corner as if she was expecting a punch line. She regarded the handsome, dark-skinned mercenary, looking him over with an appraising eye. Then, her eye fell to her son, who seemed ready to climb out of his own skin, waiting for her to scream at him to get out and never come back, to get out of her life and this home with his sinful ways. She pursed her lips and tilted her head down, looking through her eyebrows at the slightly-taller young man who was her baby boy.  
  
"Scooter, inn't he a little old for you?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by sillyscrunchy


	10. Pudge

It was a rare occasion when Pyro found himself able to resist the lure of Engineer's belly. It was at once handsome, cute, comfortable, and sexy, all of which the fire-starter appreciated in equal measure. Well, perhaps not equal. A comfortable belly _was_ a comfortable belly, after all.

A line of fluffy hair trailed down from his broad, furry chest and collected where it bulged out from the surrounding muscle, a touch of pudge on the stout mechanic's firm, strong torso. His strong core was insulated by the soft belly atop it, the sign of a man who, for all of his lifting and pulling, spent more nights than he could remember seated on something, hunched over a book or a blueprint, a beer in one hand, pencil in the other. Or more recently, reclining in Pyro's warm, soft bed, surrounded by comforters, quilts, and pillows, with the body of his lover curled tightly around him, head resting contentedly on the half-keg he had in place of a six-pack.

Pyro tickled his nose through the dark hair that stuck up from his tummy, following the line between it and his chest, pressing soft kisses along the way and capturing tufts of fuzz between his lips with a soft giggle. His arm was thrown across the smaller man's middle, hugging the curve of his belly, relishing the light squishy give it had against his arm. He buried his face in Engineer's pudge, smiling against his skin and humming happily as he nuzzled in, tickling the Texan with more noisy kisses.

Engineer chuckled, tugging at Pyro's shoulder to urge him upward. When the taller man craned up to see what his lover wanted, the mechanic grabbed hold and hefted him up so that they were face to face, capturing him in a slow, lazy kiss. Warm hands found their way to his face and shoulder, and that fuzzy tummy was forgotten for now in the haze of their love, the heat of their mouths, and the smiles that creased their lips even as they moved together.


End file.
